


In the Space Before the Dawn

by ThePaintedScorpionDoll



Series: Scenes from a War-Forged Courtship [18]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Aeron Tabris, Aeron/Alistair, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePaintedScorpionDoll/pseuds/ThePaintedScorpionDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to "Recommitment." Alistair sorts out his thoughts and love continues to prevail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Space Before the Dawn

Early morning. The world is still hidden in darkness, as if the sun is reluctant to shed its light on what is to come, but Alistair is long used to being up before the dawn. Early rises were part and parcel of growing up in the abbey where he studied as a boy. When Duncan brought him into the fold of the Grey Wardens, it was an odd touchstone of familiarity during the early days of his training. Even now, the itch of adhering to routine prickles at the edge of his mind. Normally, he would be out of bed almost as soon as he awakens. Normally, by now, he would have already attended to his most basic of needs and well on his way to starting his morning prayers. Normally…

 _Normally_ , yes, but these are hardly normal circumstances, are they?

All the more reason to cling to that which remains steadfast through all things.

Alistair tries to sit up. He visualizes himself pushing back the covers, planting his feet on the floor, rising, leaving the room; imagines going through the motions, growing more and more alert with each task. He considers getting dressed, getting some semblance of breakfast, maybe even meeting with Riordan—

But then Aeron turns over beside him and the thought exercise abruptly comes to a halt. Alistair glances over. He shifts, enduring the dull sting that remains in his back from last night’s entanglement. Whatever did possess her…?

Of course, here he has to correct himself. Better to ask what possessed them both. She had asked…not for _that_ , precisely—not for him to color her skin with his teeth or leave the bruising press of his fingers against her hips—but…to make her his. That was what she wanted, and Alistair had given himself to that task, as surely as with any request Aeron could make or had made of him, but the result was… _different_. Unexpected. Less like making love and more like…a purging of sorts. Like trying to tear out the worst of what plagues them so as to give what is good a chance to survive. Like a Joining of an altogether different kind, but just as necessary.

There were mutual tears afterward; quiet, exhausted whispers of reaffirmed affection. But with these things there was also this overwhelming sense of… _relief_ , the kind that follows drawing back from some high edge half a moment before falling over and leaves the whole body subtly trembling. They fell asleep pressed close together, fingers of one hand interlaced—his thumb gently brushing back and forth, back and forth…

And now it is morning, and now the room is a little less dark than it was even moments ago, and as much as Alistair wants, he cannot push the day back any longer. Neither of them can.

“Aeron?” He feels her stir as his fingers skim down her back. “Aeron—”

“Mm—?”

“It’s morning.”

Aeron draws in a deep breath. “Morning—?”

“Mm-hm. Time to get up.” Alistair presses a kiss to her shoulder before following his own advice. “If we don’t hurry, they might leave us behind. Ooh—”

“What?”

“Floor is cold.” He bends down to feel about for his clothes. Behind him, he can hear Aeron moving, possibly sitting up. “You wouldn’t happen to remember where you tossed my trousers, do you?”

“Not particularly, seeing as you tossed them aside this time, not me,” she answers. “It might also help if you turned on a candle or two.”

Oh, but of course. Alistair curses under his breath and goes to it. He hears her chuckle softly. The mattress shifts. A glance reveals Aeron sitting up with her legs drawn in beneath the blankets, looking at him.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks her.

“Do you mean to ask if there is something wrong?” she asks in return.

“Is there?”

Aeron is quiet for a moment. Then she shakes her head. “I mean, yes, obviously, but…strangely, no. I don’t know how to explain it. Everything feels…right, as if everything is happening as it should. I can accept whatever happens out there today without fear.”

“Hm.”

“Of course,” Aeron adds, “that is _not_ permission for you to go getting yourself killed.”

Alistair laughs. “No, I figured as much—”

“Because I _will_ come after you—”

“I know.”

“—and if you make me march through the Fade and beyond to fetch you, I will—” She accepts Alistair’s attempt to silence her threats with a kiss before adding, “I will be very cross, Alistair Theirin.”

“Ooh. The full name treatment! You’re serious.”

“I am always serious,” Aeron answers.

“Well, allow me to suggest being serious while also getting out of bed, and in exchange I will promise to do my very best _not_ to get killed in battle today. Hm? But first…” He gets maybe three steps towards his bag before his foot tangles in something on the floor. “Well, I found my trousers!”

“If they’re capable of felling you, maybe you should try them against the darkspawn,” Aeron suggests.

“Oh, sure! Great idea. They’ll never see it coming. Or maybe I’ll just save it for the Archdemon instead, pull it out as a secret weapon last-minute.”

“It could work,” she answers, her footsteps signaling her departure from bed. “With a bit of luck, maybe—”

“Here.”

“Hm? A-Alistair, isn’t that…” Aeron’s expression changes to something unreadable as her eyes appraise what he holds out to her—her stone-and-ruby king chess piece, now dangling from a sturdy chain. “You found it. My chess piece—?”

Alistair looks at her sheepishly. “I may have actually…been the reason it was missing. I wanted to return it sooner. I did. But then the Landsmeet happened and there just wasn’t a good time and… What? Why are you looking at me like that? You’re not…going to cry, are you?”

To his relief, she lets out a short laugh and shakes her head. She takes his gift. “Please never stop being so…you. So precious. No matter how many days we have left—”

“Right,” he says. “This is in addition to ‘no dying in battle’ rule, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Aeron presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “Now, let’s not keep the Archdemon waiting.”

And even with the inevitable horrors waiting for them today, Alistair finds himself genuinely smiling.

“As you wish, my queen.”


End file.
